


it's all fun and games ('till somebody falls in love)

by rocketshiptospace



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magic!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketshiptospace/pseuds/rocketshiptospace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael tries to see things on the positive side. Like, yeah, he has an unrequited crush on his best friend, but at least his sandwich didn’t burst out in a dramatic rendition of ‘I Can’t Help Falling In Love’ with backing vocals from his cutlery and a dance routine by his milkshake or some other weird shit. </p><p>Or, Michael is a witch. Which is fine, really. Until he goes and falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's all fun and games ('till somebody falls in love)

**Author's Note:**

> AND ITS DONE
> 
> god this took me MONTHS to finish BUT ITS DONE AND IM SO!!! HAPPY!!!
> 
> BIG HUGE MASSIVE THANK YOU TO LOU, SERIOUSLY WITHOUT THEM THIS FIC WOULDN'T HAVE EXISTED. thank you, my dear lovely lou for sending me motivating memes and letting me ramble about plot ideas and reading what i'd already written and helping me with song ideas and am i forgetting things?? im probably forgetting things. i'm very serious when i say this fic couldn't have existed without you and i am SO SO SO grateful for that, love you <3
> 
> NEXT AN EQUALLY BIG THANK YOU TO GAB because honestly she's the reason i even came up with the idea for this fic in the first place lmao. THANK YOU for being a wonderfully awesome person that's always there for me and that i love very much honestly you are THE BEST
> 
> finally i want to thank everyone who listen to me rant about this on my blog, and who encouraged me to continue, you're all awesome and i hope you enjoy the most ridiculous thing i've ever written in the history of ever (also the longest lmao) <3
> 
> ALSO there's a mix for this fic [here](http://8tracks.com/elliejz/it-s-all-fun-and-games-till-somebody-falls-in-love), i'd highly suggest listening to it while reading :D

Michael loves having magic, he really does. Especially because it's a rare thing these days; there's admittedly more people without magic than with. Having magic sets him apart from the rest, makes him feel special. So for that, he loves magic. On top of that magic proves to be pretty handy in day to day life. He thinks it's mostly because he's used to it, but he's pretty sure he couldn't live without his magic.

The downside of magic, however, is that it's really, _really_ unpredictable. It's like a cat; Michael can control it to some extent, but mostly it just does whatever the fuck it wants.

Which isn't that big of a deal, usually. Yeah, sometimes he accidentally makes shit float and he _did_ set Calum's favorite t-shirt on fire that one time, but like. Usually he's okay.

Heavy emotions seem to be the cause of this accidental magic the most. It's not uncommon for tiny rainclouds to appear above his head when he's in a bad mood. (Michael remembers this one time where he was particularly pissed and accidentally electrocuted his cat, Hecate, by sending a stray lightning bolt her way –completely unintentional of course. Hecate unfortunately did not see it this way. She ignored him for a good two weeks straight.) He also has a tendency of making things randomly glow or float when he's happy. And then there's the thing where he makes things explode when he's mad. So yeah, Michael tries to refrain from feeling certain emotions too strongly. Which goes surprisingly well, for most of his life.

But then Michael goes and falls in love.

–

It all starts on a rainy Friday afternoon, right after school. Michael's huddled under the small overhanging roof just outside the school, trying to make tiny flames appear in his hands just to keep himself warm. In front of him the rain is falling steadily, and the wind is really starting to pick up. Which means that whenever Michael seems to succeed in making a flame, the wind goes and blows it out again.

Annoyed, Michael tries again, creating a bigger flame this time in the hope that this one will be more wind proof. Suddenly, Luke pops up beside him with a cheery  “Hello!”, causing Michael to yell in surprise and accidentally set fire to the strap of his backpack.

“Jesus Christ, Luke. Don't scare me like that, you fucking asshole,” Michael grumbles, aggressively patting at the flames in an attempt to extinguish them. “Also, you're late. I've been waiting _forever_ for you.”

Luke at least has the decency to look a little bit sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Brand held me back. Wanted to talk about me tutoring some kids in Math. Didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's okay,” Michael says, dejectedly looking at the burned remains of his backpack strap. It's holding, but only _just_. He hopes they still have a roll of duct-tape at home. He hopes his backpack actually manages to make it home still in one piece. “Ready to go?” He says, looking away from his smoldering backpack to focus and Luke, and gestures towards the street.

The rains is still falling plentifully and Luke wrinkles his nose. “You got an umbrella? I forgot mine at home this morning.”

Michael smirks. “Oh dear innocent Luke. Who needs an umbrella when you got _magic_?” As he says it he waves his hands around, and a clear water resistant screen appears around them, like a bubble. Luke touches it, in awe, and Michael can't help the fond smile that spreads over his face. He and Luke have been friends for years now, but Luke still seems amazed by Michael's magic (or anyone's magic, for that matter). It's kind of endearing.

“Lead the way, Mr. Hemmings,” Michael says, with a flourish of his hand and a short bow. Luke takes a hesitant step towards the street, Michael right behind him. The bubble follows them effortlessly.

–

Sometimes Michael looks at Luke and he still can't quite believe they are friends. Especially not since they hated each other for a good year after just meeting. Although 'hate' might be the wrong word. It was more like, Michael thought Luke hated him and Luke thought Michael hated _him_ , which resulted in a mutual dislike for each other. Basically, the whole thing was just one big misunderstanding which started with Michael blowing up what he thought was Calum's notebook – spoiler alert; it wasn't – after Calum refused to let Michael copy his homework.

Anyway, that whole fiasco lead to Michael thinking Luke must hate him now, and Luke thinking Michael had some sort of weird vendetta against him that led the boy to send Luke's math homework to the grave. Which then resulted in Michael being annoyed by Luke because _really_ , just because he blew up the boy's homework didn't mean he had to look at Michael like he was going to blow up Luke himself next. And also avoiding Michael in the hallways like he was some sort of life threatening disease, like? That's just rude. Luke, in the meantime, was mostly just hoping that avoiding Michael would stop the boy from looking at him with so much _pure hatred_ in his eyes.

After a whole year of glaring and avoiding each other in the hallways, the whole thing got finally cleared up after Calum befriended Luke. He straight up told the two to sort their shit out, mostly because he was tired of sitting between two fires.

Michael refused to at first, still upset and bitter of the fact that his best friend had the nerve to befriend his _mortal enemy_ , but eventually agreed to at least _talk_ to Luke. And, well.

Luke turned out to be really nice. He apologized at least a million times for letting Michael think he hated him, while Michael was the one who had screwed up in the first place. And he was funny, making jokes about how his teacher thought it was just another lame excuse that some weird guy in the library had blown up his homework and that's why he didn't have it. On top of that he was also incredibly smart, and humble, and just downright adorable, and Michael felt his resolves crumbling fairly quickly.

So in the end, Michael had to begrudgingly admit to Calum that Luke was actually pretty cool, and soon after they were inseparable. Secretly, Michael was really glad that Calum got him and Luke to talk it out. Not that he would ever tell anyone, but Michael genuinely thought Luke was one of the best people he had ever had the luck of knowing.

–

“Hey, loser,” Michael says, when they're almost at Luke's house for their weekly study session. Luke looks up and raises his eyebrow in question. “Race you to the house?” Michael adds, playful grin on his face. Luke opens his mouth to speak, but Michael ignores him, instead opting for bolting off into the direction of Luke's house. He never said that he was going to make this race fair, after all.

The rain is still falling plentifully and Michael splashes through multiple puddles on his way to victory, but the bubble does a good job of keeping him safe. He reaches Luke's porch within record time and immediately huddles under the small roof, dropping the shield and panting wildly. He turns around, to rub it in Luke's face that he _totally_ won, but when he turns around the words catch in his throat, and he has to try very hard not to laugh.

Luke's walking towards him, annoyed look on his face, and completely soaked from head to toe. It appears that when Michael took off, he took the bubble with him, which forced Luke to make the rest of the journey through the soaking rain. “Okay, so,” Michael starts, when Luke is within earshot, still looking slightly murderous. “It seems that _maybe_ I should have taken in consideration that this bubble thing doesn't like, stretch out or anything.”

“You think?” Luke grumbles, joining Michael under the roof of his porch and fishing his house key out of his pocket – his soaking wet pocket.

“In my defense you would not have gotten that wet if you would've just like, run faster.” Michael tries, biting his lip as to not burst out in laughter at his best friend's soaked exterior.

Luke frowns at him. Michael looks down at his feet, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. “I'm sorry, okay. I didn't mean to make you look like the long lost brother of the little mermaid, I swear.”

The sigh Luke lets out sounds like a very weird combination of fond and exasperated. “Just get in so I can get a fucking shower, yeah? And next time just...” He runs a hand through his hair, droplets of water running down his face. Michael thinks it's weird that he still manages to look so incredibly handsome while being absolutely completely soaked to the bone. “Try not to drown me.”

Michael smiles his most innocent smile. “I would _never_.”

Luke raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything, instead opting for walking inside the house. Michael follows him, down the hallway and up the stairs to Luke's room, a route he has walked so many times now already. Years ago, back when he was still 100% sure Luke hated his _guts,_ he would've never expected Luke's house to be a place that felt like home. But now, years and many good memories later, he drops his backpack on the floor, kicks out his shoes, and falls down on Luke's bed like it's his own.

“I'm in the shower!” Luke yells from the direction of the bathroom, and Michael hums in reaction, reaching down to grab his backpack. Instead of taking his homework out and actually doing something for once, he inspects the slightly burned strap. It's mostly charred, nothing that duct-tape can't fix, but Michael can't help the witch inside himself wondering if he can't just do it himself. Unfortunately the only downside of magic is that you can't just make stuff _appear_. He can't just wave his arms around and suddenly 'poof!' new backpack strap. Eventually Michael sighs and gets up in search for duct tape. Who knows, maybe Luke has some in his room. Everything is better than making homework at this point, Michael thinks, as he lifts a stack of papers to see if maybe somehow Luke managed to wedge a very thin roll of duct tape under there.

He's just hanging upside down on the bed, checking the mess under Luke's bed in some sort of desperate last attempt – honestly, Under Luke's Bed is not one of Michael's favorite places to be. Luke is one of those people who instead of cleaning up just stuffs everything under his bed. Michael's pretty sure he just saw an old slice of pizza. Or at least what once must have been a pizza. Like, three months ago – when Luke walks back into the room. Michael doesn't even really notice at first, too busy shoving aside a pair of Luke's boxers (they're pink with toucans on them. Honestly, why is Michael even friends with this loser).

“Uh,” He hears Luke say from the direction of the door, “What are you doing?”

Michael looks up to make some sort of snarky remark, let Luke know that what he's currently doing is nothing out of the ordinary at all, thank you very much, but the words die in his throat when he sees what Luke is wearing. Or, actually, what Luke is _not_ wearing. Because Luke is standing in the doorway, confused look on his face, with only a towel slung around his waist. Now, Michael thought Luke was already attractive with water droplets rolling down his face when he was fully clothed, he's in for a whole different experience when Luke is wearing _next to nothing_. One of the water droplets that cling to his hair drips on his chest, and Michael's eyes follow it all the way down until it disappears under the towel. He swallows.

Here's the thing about Luke Hemmings; he is Very Attractive. Honestly, Michael is not an idiot. He knows that Luke is incredibly good looking, with his bright blue eyes and his long lashes and his cute one dimpled smile. Michael has known this for a _very_ long time. But it's always just sort of been this kind of thing at the back of his mind, like this side information he's never really paid attention too.

Michael now realizes the reason he never really paid attention to this information is because he's never seen Luke _shirtless_. Luke is a very insecure person, even around his friends, and he doesn't really like taking his shirt off. The other boys never really mention it, since they don't want Luke to feel uncomfortable. But now that Michael sees him, in all his shirtless glory, he seriously wonders why Luke was so insecure all this time. Because _fuck_.

He feels a little creepy, staring at one of his best friends like this. But he can't help it. He can't help but look at Luke's broad shoulders, his bare chest, and get the incredible urge to _touch_. Honestly he just wants to reach out and grab Luke by his perfectly sculpted shoulders and _kiss him_.

Michael doesn't really know what to do with this revelation.

Truth to be told, his attraction to both girls and boys had never really been a big deal to him, nor for his environment. It was just common knowledge that Michael was just as interested in boys as he was in girls. That's not the scary part about this whole thing. He doesn't care that Luke is a boy. What he does care about is that Luke is _one of his best friends_ and now all he can think about is _kissing him_.

He swallows again. “I was.” He stops. What was he doing anyway before this goddamned Greek god walked in? He honestly can't remember anymore. All he can think about is how Luke is looking at him with a raised eyebrow and how he wants to run his hands through Luke's wet hair. “Doing. Things.” He coughs awkwardly, and tries to look anywhere but at Luke's sculpted chest (honestly, someone could have told him one of his best friends was the embodiment of beauty itself, it would've saved him an entire existential crisis).

“O-kay?” Luke says, looking at Michael curiously. “Are you sure you're all right?” He adds, walking towards the closet to pick out a shirt. It causes him to turn his back to Michael. His back is very lovely. Michael wants to run his nails all over it.

“Yeah, fine,” Michael says, shoving his head under the bed again to distract himself from the fact that Luke is still very much half naked. “Just, uh, looking for duct tape?”

“Under my bed?” Luke sounds a bit confused. “I don't think you're going to find any duct tape there.”

“I don't know, I think the magical land of Under Luke's Bed could actually surprise me,” Michael says, “So far I've found three snickers, something I suppose once was a pizza, the entire discography of One Direction, my math homework from two weeks ago –I was wondering where that had gone too –  and bright pink boxers with toucans on them. So honestly-” But before Michael can continue talking, he's cut off by an excited gasp from Luke.

“Did you just say bright pink toucan boxers?” He sounds way too happy about someone who just acknowledged something as ridiculous as bright pink toucan boxers. Michael looks up to find Luke staring at him with honest to god _hope_ in his eyes. At least he's fully dressed now. That's definitely making Michael's live about 99% easier.

“Yes,” Michael says, “Gimme a sec.” He dives back down under the bed and digs up the toucan boxers, holding them up to Luke while pulling a disgusted face. “Here they are.”

Luke yelps. Luke honest to god _yelps_. “My lucky boxers!”

“Your lucky-” Michael looks from the boxers to Luke back to the boxers. “You are ridiculous.” He eventually settles on, but Luke doesn't really seem to care, just bounds over to the bed to grab the boxers from Michael's hands.

“I've been looking _everywhere_ for these! Thank you Michael, _thank you_.” He looks so honest to god happy about Michael having found his boxers that he doesn't have the heart to point out they really weren't _that hard_ to find. Mostly Michael's just glad Luke's no longer mad at him for the water bubble fiasco from earlier.

“You're welcome?” He eventually settles on.

“You're the best.” Luke states, as he flops down next to him on the bed. “Michael Clifford: a failure at basic magic but a _star_ when it comes to finding lost boxers.”

Michael squawks indignantly. “I am _not_ a failure at magic! You're just a failure at running!”

Luke snorts. “Yeah, that backpack strap totally set itself on fire.”

“You _scared me_!” Michael says, crawling back on the bed properly so he can lie down next to Luke to face him.

“Oh, so you're saying it's all my fault?” Luke says, amused smile on his face. Michael's so close that he can see Luke's eyelashes fan across his cheeks when he blinks. He tries not to think about how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss him. Tries not to think about how easily he could ruin their friendship right now.

“Yeah,” He eventually says, bringing his hand up to Luke's face just so he can flick him in the nose. “Everything's always your fault.”

–

By the time Michael gets home he has realized three things.

1\. Michael Clifford is undeniable, one hundred percent, head over heels in love with Luke Hemmings.

It's almost pathetic, how he hadn't realized this before. He has literally waxed poetically over how amazing Luke actually is to anyone willing to listen – which is actually just limited to Calum and Ashton(to a certain extent) and his mother. Oh, and Hecate. But Michael's pretty sure she only listens _because she has no other choice._ He honestly can't believe that Luke had to take his shirt off for Michael to realize that he might actually be a little bit tiny very much in love with his best friend.

Basically seeing Luke shirtless was like someone pouring a cold bucket of water over his head – it woke him up in the worst possible way. Seeing Luke so vulnerable (and so _beautiful_ ) opened up a floodgate of feelings he'd rather stuff right back to where they came from. Because it's one thing to acknowledge these feelings, it's a whole other thing to actually act upon them, to have them reciprocated.

Which brings him to realization number two.

2\. There is no way in hell, or heaven, or anywhere for that matter, that Luke actually likes him back.

Sure, Luke is an overly affectionate person who insists on cuddling Michael and clings to him like a freaking koala, but that doesn't say _shit_. Luke is that way with Calum too, with Ashton. Luke is just a very friendly affectionate person.

The thing is, Michael is a dick. Michael is a shitty horrible person and for some reason, his friends, including Luke, put up with him. They actively _want to be his friend_ (although Calum would never admit to that, still claims Michael put some sort of weird friendship spell on him). So like, he can't really expect more than that, can he? The fact that he gets to be Luke's friend, that Luke wants him as a friend, is already a lot more than he deserves.

And that's what it all boils down to: Michael doesn't _deserve_ Luke. Luke is an amazing person, kind, compassionate, funny. And Michael is well... Michael. Michael blows up his friend's homework and gets them soaked in the rain and sets Calum's favorite shirts on fire. Michael hasn't made his homework once in the past three years of school, doesn't really plan on going to college, doesn't really plan on anything besides what he's going to wear the next day, really. Michael relies on his magic way too much and he's lazy and annoying and not worthy of anyone as amazing as Luke.

So yeah. No chance in hell.

This depressing realization brings him to point number three.

3\. Hecate is the worst listener ever and a horrible conversationalist. Also not capable of even _appearing_ like she feels sorry for him, which. Rude.

When Michael finally gets to his room, tired and sad and mad at the world, Hecate is sitting on his bed, looking at him expectantly. Or at least, Michael thinks she's looking at him expectantly. He doesn't really know if cats can actually have facial expressions. He doesn't really care either, just flops face down on the bed next to her. “I hate my life.” He announces. Hecate doesn't reply. She never does.

“I just,” He leans up on his elbows to look at Hecate, and she makes her way over to rub her face against his arm. “You remember Luke, right?” He scoffs. “Of course you remember Luke, you love Luke. You were all over him last time he was here.” Hecate head-butts his shoulder in response.

“Well, anyway. You might have a point. With, uh, loving him, I mean. I think,” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I think I love him too? As in, I'm in love with him.” The words sound weird on his tongue and he realizes this is the first time he's said it out loud. He repeats it, for good measure. “I am in love with Luke Hemmings.”

Nothing happens. Not that Michael expected something to happen but just. He'd figured that admitting this to himself, saying it out loud, would change something. But it doesn't. It changes nothing. Michael is still in love with his best friend, Luke is still not in love with him, and Hecate is still insistently trying to get him to pet her. He gives in with a sigh and softly runs her hand through her fur. She purrs happily.

“What do I do now, Hecate?” He asks, knowing already he won't get an answer. And indeed, Hecate says nothing. He stares at her and pets her head a few times. She closes her eyes with a content look on her face. “So basically,” Michael says, “You're saying I should ignore it until it goes away?” That is not, in fact, what she's saying, because she isn't saying anything at all, but Michael's desperate so he's going to take it anyway.

He turns around and falls back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Ignore it until it goes away,” he mutters to himself. He doesn't think it will work. He knows himself, knows what he is like, knows he's horrible at hiding his feelings once he's acknowledged them – actually he might have also been very bad at hiding his feelings before he had even acknowledged them – but still. It's worth the shot. Hecate jumps on his chest and lies down, curling herself in a ball and purring happily. Michael thinks it must be nice to be a cat. No crushes to worry about, just naps and food. And hugs. Michael could use a good hug right about now.

He falls asleep like that, sprawled out on his back with his clothes still on, Hecate curled up contently on his chest. He dreams about giant dinosaur sized cats abducting Luke and throwing him in a giant volcano while chanting 'ignore it until it goes away' and wakes up five minutes before he has to leave for school with a slight headache.

As he rushes to get ready for school, he doesn't notice how all the tips of all his pens in his room have started pointing west during the night.

–

He does notice the pen thing a few hours later, during math class. Luke isn't in this one, because he's doing some sort of advanced kind of bullshit, Ashton isn't here because he's in the year above them, and Calum and Michael are not allowed to sit next to each other anymore after the ham sandwich fiasco from two years ago, so Michael is, to put it very mildly, bored. So bored, even, that he has dumped the contents of his pencil case all over his table and is now sorting his markers on color. Or well, he would, if it wasn't for the fact that none of his markers, or pens, or pencils, actually lay still. They keep moving around so their tips are all pointing in the same direction and Michael is getting fairly frustrated.

It's not even that they're pointing at anything, unless you can count the poster of the Fibonacci spiral that's hung up on the wall, but Michael's pretty sure his pens cannot be _that_ interested in the spiral. They're still _his_ pens after all.

He thinks it must be a magical hiccup. He gets those sometimes. It's like a cold, but instead of sneezing or coughing Michael accidentally sets things on fire and makes flowers grow wherever he goes. The last time he had a magical hiccup he had sort of turned the entire biology classroom into a jungle. Their teacher wasn't even that mad about it, excited even, until he found out they couldn't actually get out of the room because it was blocked by a giant tree. It took three hours and an impressive looking ax to get them out of there. Michael was expelled for two days and had to write a report on the sturdiness of jungle trees. It was worth it, in the end, when he told Luke the story and Luke laughed so loud he snorted chocolate milkshake up his nose.

The thing is, after yesterday’s revelations, Michael's had a hard time getting Luke out of his head. It's not that he's constantly obsessing over him or anything, it's just this sort of quiet hum in the background. Things like 'I wonder what Luke's doing', 'Luke would know the answer to this' and 'I wish Luke was here right now'. Just small thoughts that keep popping into his mind, continuously reminding him of the fact that he went and fell in love with his best friend. He tries to ignore it the best he can, but it's hard. It's like his brain is catching up on all those years of unconsciously crushing and by continuously torturing him with thoughts of Luke.

He sighs and gives up on trying to assort his marker, instead opting for shoving them back in his pencil case and leans back in his chair. His pencil case turns so it's pointing in the direction of the Fibonacci poster. Michael just hopes this hiccup is over soon.

–

It's not over. Instead, it just seems to get worse. For the rest of the morning every single writing utensil he touches does The Thing and it's really starting to get on his nerves. It's not even like they're always pointing in the same direction. Sometimes they move slightly, like they're following someone. Almost like Jack Sparrow's compass, that points to the thing you want most. It's annoying, because Michael can't seem to figure out what the pencils are pointing at. It mostly just seems pretty random.

But then lunch arrives and the mystery gets solved. Michael's not so sure that's a good thing.

The four of them are sitting at a table far back in the cafeteria, and Michael moodily munches on his sandwich while Ashton and Calum have a discussion about ketchup on fries – Calum thinks it's the best thing ever, Ashton thinks it's disgusting. They have this argument at least twice a week. Usually Michael likes to rile them up by making stupid comments, but right now he's too focused on how to get rid of this stupid hiccup pay attention to what they're saying.

Luke is sitting next to Michael, happily biting into his own sandwich. The crusts are cut off and Michael tries to not find that endearing (spoiler alert: he fails). He looks good today, wearing a snap back and a simple black t-shirt, and Michael tries very hard not to stare at him too obviously. Instead he opts for glaring at his sandwich while wondering if maybe his mother knows a cure for his hiccup.

“Are you okay?” Luke suddenly asks him, at a low volume, so Ashton and Calum can't hear. He's leaning slightly towards Michael, concerned look on his face, and Michael silently curses the world for making someone as sweet and kind as Luke Hemmings. “It's just,” Luke continues, when Michael stays silent. “You seem annoyed at something. Or, like,” he waves his hand around, “Just, like, mad?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, running a hand through his hair. He momentarily considers just saying 'so yesterday I realized I am in love with you and now I'm trying to deal with that while also dealing with the fact that I have this weird magical hiccup that makes my pens act like fucking compasses' but eventually settles on “I, uh, have this thing?”

Luke raises an eyebrow. Michael continues. “Like, this magic thing. Remember when I accidentally turned the biology classroom into a jungle?” If Luke's snort is anything to go by, he does. “Well, like, remember how I said I thought it was like a magical hiccup?” Luke nods. “I think I have that again? But now it's influencing my writing utensils. Look.” He grabs a pen from his bag and places it on the table. When he does he notices Calum and Ashton have stopped arguing and are now looking at Michael expectantly. They must've been listening in on Michael and Luke. The bastards.

The second Michael places the pen down and lets it go, it starts spinning wildly, like it's confused for a second. Eventually it slows down, and when it stops, the tip is pointing straight at Luke. Which, fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Because as the other boys raise their eyebrow while staring at the pen, Michael realizes that whatever is happening is in fact _not_ a magical hiccup. It's something much, _much_ , worse. Something he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Some of the most powerful magic there is.

Magic influenced by emotions. And this particular emotion that came to light recently, happens to be one of the most powerful emotions of all.

Michael stares at Luke, and then at the pen, and then back at Luke, and realizes he is one hundred percent truly and honestly _fucked_. Because not only did he only _just_ realize he has a crush on Luke, now his magic also decided to get involved. Michael's read about these kind of things happening, magic getting out of control when a witch falls in love, but he always thought it was kind of bullshit. It's clear now, however, that it might not be such bullshit after all. And Michael knows there is no way to stop it, whatsoever. He just has to deal with whatever his magic decides to throw his way, and hope it goes over soon.

“That's odd.” Ashton eventually says, breaking the silence, unaware of the small freak out Michael just had. “Why does it do that?”

Michael's not really sure how to say 'Yeah, so, I sort of realized I have a crush on Luke and now my magic is acting up' without sounding absolutely crazy, so he just shrugs. “It's been doing that all day. Just keeps pointing in different directions.”

Luke cocks his head to the side and observes the pen. “Is it like, a compass?”

“But why would it be pointing in your direction then?” Ashton pokes the pen, and it's like cutting the strings off a puppet. It just rolls away a bit, no longer pointing at Luke, and doesn't do the wild spinning thing again. Ashton frowns.

“Maybe it's like, not necessarily pointing at me?” Luke asks, picking up the pen and studying it closely like it's actually going to give him answers. Knowing Michael's luck, it wouldn't be all that weird if his magic made the pen serenade Luke. “It could've been pointing at something that's like, you know, directly behind me?”

“Isn't your house in that direction?” Ashton asks, and Michael realizes that this is his out.

“Yeah, I think it is? It must be like, I don't really feel that well today? So, like, my magic must've caught on to that and now it keeps pointing in the direction of home. Because honestly, I do really want to go home.” He's not even lying all that much. Michael _would_ really like to go home somewhere right about now. Maybe he could just crawl under the blankets and wait for all this stupid shit to blow over. Wait for his feelings to be gone and his magic to act normal again.

“Oh, that's so cool though!” Luke says, excitedly, “Like, if you get lost on your way home you can just pull a pen out of your bag and BAM problem solved.”

“Yes Luke,” Michael says, shaking his head fondly. “Because after all these years of going to this school, I still get lost on the way home.” He doesn't say 'It wouldn't lead me home, it would lead me to you' but that would involve admitting that maybe Luke and home aren't all that different and he doesn't think he's ready to do that yet.

Luke grumbles something about it 'being totally possible' and Ashton launches into a story about how he got lost in a Tesco parking lot one time and Michael leans back in his chair, glad the conversation has moved on. However, when he looks up, he finds Calum staring at him.

Calum hasn't said anything during the whole conversation and Michael suddenly realizes that that is really weird for someone like Calum. But then he notices the curious, knowing look on Calum's face and he just _knows_ that Calum knows. Which, if Calum figured it out so fast, how long is it going to take for Luke to catch on?

Michael groans and ignores Calum's knowing looks in favor of burying his face in his sandwich. He just wants this day to be over.

–

So he skillfully manages to dodge Calum all day to avoid him bringing up the thing about the pens, and his pens sort of start behaving again. They're not as aggressive in pointing in Luke's direction anymore, and instead opt for writing Luke's name all over Michael's notes and doodling hearts around it. Michael's okay with that, because at least he can just burn his notebook to get rid of the evidence. God knows he got enough practice with his backpack strap.

All and all it's going well. Too well, even.

Which means that a few hours later, after classes are over and Michael's standing at his locker, ready to go home, everything of course goes to shit again.

He's just putting the last of his books away, swatting away a pen that managed to escape his backpack and is now doodling on his arm, when Luke suddenly pops up beside him. “Hello, Michael!” He says cheerily. Michael screams and slams his locker shut.

“Will you _stop_ doing that!” He yells in frustrating. The pen pokes him in the head, as to warn him to not be mean to Luke. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with his magic.

“Sorry!” Luke immediately apologizes, “I was just, uh, wondering, if maybe you wanted to like, study after school tomorrow? I know we usually only study together on Tuesday but I have this test coming up and you are _great_ at English so I was hoping you could maybe like, help me out? I could do today too but uh, I still have guitar lessons tonight so we won't have much time so I thought tomorrow? But if that doesn't work for you that's okay, we can do another day, or not at all, I mean, seriously, you don't have to-”

No matter how adorable Michael finds Luke's rambling, it's time to put the poor guy out of his misery. “It's okay, Luke. I can help you with English tomorrow. After all, you helped me with my math test two weeks ago, right? It's only fair I repay the favor. My place after school?”

Usually they study at Luke's place because it's closer, but Michael thinks that there's a lot less chance of Luke taking his shirt off when they're at Michael's place. Not that Michael would mind taking Luke taking his shirt of at his place. He would encourage it even, but like. Maybe not with this massive insane crush that's making his magic all crazy.

Actually, now he thinks about it, he should probably deny Luke. Say it's better that they just, don't hang out for a while. At least not until Michael has this weird magic thing solved. But there's no way Michael could say no to him when he's looking at him like that, slightly nervous, like they aren't best friends. Like Michael wouldn't do whatever he wanted from him. Luke is and will always be Michael's kryptonite.

“Yeah, okay, yeah, thanks.” Luke smiles brightly at him and Michael is pretty sure his eyes are doing the heart thing. Luke looks at him for a while, and his eyes zoom in on the pen, that's still happily doodling away on Michael's arm.

“What's your pen doing?” He asks, sounding slightly amused, and Michael's eyes widen in panic.

Because, well, the last time he checked on his pens, they were drawing a very detailed outline of Luke's face on the back of Michael's homework. Which, besides being really impressive, is not really something Luke should see. And indeed, when he looks down, he can see that the pen has written 'Michael Hemmings' in curly and neat letters, right in the middle of Michael's forearm, and is now in the process of drawing hearts and flowers around it. Michael aggressively slaps the pen away and yanks his sleeve down. “Nothing! My pen's doing absolutely nothing!”

Luke raises an eyebrow, “What is up with your utensils today anyway? Is this still part of that hiccup thing?”

“I think?” Michael says, slightly hysterical, hoping Luke didn't actually manage to read the writing. “It's lasting longer than normally, it's really weird.” His pen has come flying back and is now repeatedly poking his cheek. Michael is going to come home covered in ink and it’s going to take a million years to get off. He kind of really hates his life right now.

“You want me to help you find a cure?” Luke asks, and he actually looks worried. Of course he does. Any of Michael's other friends would've never stopped laughing if Michael's pens started attacking him, but not Luke. Luke is _worried_.

“No, no, I'll just, uh, ask my mom? And I'll look it up in some books or something, it'll be fine.” Michael says dismissively, mostly just trying to act like it's no big deal. The pen has started drawing again. Michael hopes by God it isn't another declaration of love, and swats it away.

Immediately, Luke starts laughing. “What?” Michael asks, slightly distressed. What if his magic just gave him away? What if the pen wrote 'Michael loves Luke' and Luke thinks it's a joke? What if Luke's just laughing it off because he doesn't know how to deal with it? What if he'll stop being friends with Michael after this, disgusted by the idea that his best friend has a crush on him?

“Your pen just drew a penis on you cheek,” Luke says, trying to stifle his laughter behind his hand. It looks incredibly cute.

God, Michael hates magic sometimes.

–

(Michael's entire collection of markers, pens and pencils go wild when he comes home later that day. One of the markers even starts enthusiastically chasing Hecate around the room, probably in attempt to write 'Luke + Michael' on her back (though Michael doubts you could even see it on her black fur), but Hecate effectively cuts the marker off by fishing it out the air and chewing on it aggressively. Michael wishes he could do the same. Instead he just sits at his desk and tries to make his homework, while one of his pens happily writes 'Michael wants to suck Luke's dick' on his assignment sheet.)

–

The writing utensils finally seem to be done when Michael wakes up the next morning. None of them are pointing in Luke's direction anymore, or writing any more declarations of love (although one of them did write 'Luke is my everything' on Michael's cheek when he was asleep, and he spends fifteen minutes in front of the mirror trying to wipe it off). Michael's happy about it, but he also can't help but wonder what his magic has in store for him today. He just sort of feels like they won't let him of the hook that easily.

On top of worrying about whatever his magic is up to these days, he also has to worry about Luke coming over later that day. He knows he _shouldn't_ because Luke has come over like a million times before, but he just can't help it. His newly discovered crush on Luke has made it hard for him to act well, _normal_ in front of him and having him here, in his personal space, alone, is probably not really going to help. Like, at all.

He asks his mother about the magic thing during breakfast. Or well, he vaguely mentions it in the hope she'll accidentally give him some answers.

“Hey mom,” He starts, seemingly interested in his cereal. “When you fell in love with dad, did your magic act like, all weird? Because I've uh, read somewhere that, like, magic can do that? Like it just starts acting funky when you fall in love?”

His mom smiles knowingly at him. He hates it when she does that. “Yeah, it was pretty wild, actually. Accidentally hit your dad in the head with a plastic chair when we had our first kiss. But don't worry about it, honey, you'll be fine. If that person is really meant for you, they'd probably find it endearing. Your dad laughed the entire way to the ER, said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. Although in retrospect that might have been because of the concussion... Anyway, you'll be fine, all right honey?”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbles, not at all reassured. He wonders how long it will take him before he hits Luke in the head with something. Knowing his luck, he might even accidentally knock him into a coma. “Thanks.”

His mother sighs and walks over to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It'll be okay, Mikey. Just trust me.”

–

Michael doesn't like to admit it, but he thinks his mother might have been lying. Because it does not, in any way, get better.

The whole morning goes fine, with no weird magic things happening, which gives Michael a false sense of safety. He's actually starting to relax a bit, stops worrying about weird shit happening so much. Starts focusing on his actual school work more. Or well, pretends to be focused on his actual schoolwork. Michael's pretty sure he hasn't really done anything significant at school beside showing up for a good two years.

So yeah. He lets his guards down. Which is _clearly_ a mistake, as he finds out during lunch. Because during lunch, things start to get seriously fucked up again.

Here's how it goes down; Michael sits down at their usual table, with a tray that holds a seemingly normal serving of French fries. The moment his butt hits the bench, Luke pops up beside him, greeting him cheerily. The thing is, the _problem_ is, Michael hadn't really seen Luke all day. Which is, looking back on it, maybe the reason his magic had been so chill all morning. But now Luke is right there, and he looks _adorable_ , wearing a slightly oversized sweater and a _beanie_. He looks sleepy, like he didn't get much sleep the night before, and Michael just kind of wants to wrap a blanket around him and cuddle him. Maybe even take a nap together. Yeah, that would be nice.

Anyway, Luke sits down, greets Michael, Michael momentarily considers proposing to him, and everything is fine. They talk about their day, Calum and Ashton show up, and everything is still fine. It's all okay. Nothing's happening.

But then.

“Michael,” Ashton starts, and Michael can almost hear from his tone of voice that something is going on, something he is not going to like. It's slow, warningly, careful. “What are your fries doing?”

Michael frowns, confused. He's pretty sure his fries aren't doing anything. After all, they're fries. Fries are not known to be very active pieces of food. Because they're food. Food doesn't move. Unless, of course, his magic got involved again.

And indeed, when the looks down at the table, his fries are hopping off his plate one by one and making their way towards the middle of the table, where they're currently in the process of making a very large heart. Actually, they have finished the heart, and now they seem to be making an arrow through the middle, forming the letter 'M' at the bottom of the arrow and at the other end-

“Fuck!” Michael exclaims, quickly swiping his arm over the table before the fries can form the letter 'L' at the other end of the arrow. The fries scatter all of the floor, and Michael can already hear the janitor yelling at him for making a mess, but he can't find it in himself to care. All he cares about is Luke not seeing the heart, the letter, the _meaning_.

However, when he looks up at Luke, slightly panicked, scared he has seen something, seen too much, Luke is simply looking at him worriedly. “Is your magic still acting up? Did you talk to your mom about it? You said you would talk to your mom about it, Mikey! What if it's something serious! Can witches get serious magic diseases? Do those exist?”

Michael kind of wants to cry. This is _ridiculous_. Michael's magic is being positively weird, Michael himself is being positively weird, and Ashton and Calum can't stop laughing at him and yet, Luke is worried. Luke is amused or weirded out or any emotion you'd expect from anyone else, no. Of course not. Of course Luke has to continue to be the greatest human being Michael's ever met. Michael kind of wishes he could get those fries to lift him up and carry him over to the trash, where he belongs. Because he doesn't _deserve_ Luke being worried about him. Especially not since this whole thing started after Michael realized he was in love with him.

“I, uh,” Michael says, looking down at the table. “I did talk to my mom about it.” At least that's not a lie. “She said I'll be fine.” Again, not a lie. “I think it'll be over soon.” This one's more of a wish. A prayer. A desperate shout towards whoever keeps fucking with Michael's life to please _stop_ and let him live.

Luke hums, like he's satisfied with Michael's answer, but he still look a little bit worried. “And you're sure it's a hiccup and not something else?”

Actually Michael is one hundred percent sure it's something else, but he can't say that, of course. So this time, he does have to lie. Which, well. He hates lying to Luke. Luke is, despite the person he is head over heels in love with, also one of his best friends. He trusts Luke with everything, always. He's pretty sure he doesn't lie to Luke, ever. Especially not about important things happening in his life. Especially not about things like this. But he can't tell the truth now. “No, it's a hiccup, I'm sure.” The words leave kind of a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Magic is so weird.” Ashton says, and then launches into a story about the cute kitten he saw on his way to school and how it almost made him late for first period. Michael leans back in his chair and zones out, happy for the change of topic but too wrapped up in his own problems to listen to Ashton ramble on about the specific color of the kitten's fur (“It was like, brown, but with these undertones of red? Although it might have been red after all, and it just looked darker because of the lighting. I mean, it _was_ quite dark this morning, so maybe the fur only _looked_ brown, but was actually red.”). Luke's still sending him occasional worried glances while simultaneously listening to Ashton, and Calum's sending him a knowing look from the other side of the table. Michael groans when he sees the latter. Calum has definitely caught on by now, he knows Michael way too well for that. Calum's also been friends with Michael for long enough to know how his magic works, how heavily it reacts to his emotions.

So yeah, Calum definitely knows, if the look on his face is anything to go by. He just hopes he can avoid talking to him a little bit longer. Michael still strongly believes in 'ignore it until it goes away', he just hopes that that is soon.

Ashton says something that makes Luke laughs and Michael watches as he throws his head back and his eyes crinkle up. Ignoring his feelings would be a lot easier if Luke wasn't so goddamn _beautiful._

(On his plate, a leftover fry starts aggressively hopping in Luke's direction. Michael grabs it and stuffs it in his mouth without looking.)

–

Michael remembers the first time Luke came to his house. It was after they'd only just become friends, when they were still in that awkward period of not really being sure how to act around each other or what to say. A period in which they still had awkward silences instead of comfortable ones. A period in which Michael often felt too loud or too much. A period in which Luke still consistently blushed and shied away from Michael's touch and looked scared 24/7 that Michael was going to decide he didn't like Luke after all and hate him again.

Michael had invited Luke to his house to do some homework together, awkwardly and with a lot of 'if you like, want to or something'. Luke had accepted, with his eyes on the floor and a barely audible yes, and the walk back to Michael's house had been uncomfortably quiet. It was one of the first times it was just the two of them, without Calum around, and suddenly Michael had no idea how to act around Luke. Usually Calum was there as a buffer, to explain Michael's behavior if he did something Luke didn't understand, but he didn't have that now. It was just him and Luke and the awkward silence hanging between them.

They'd reached Michael's house, Michael had let him in, and Luke had quietly and politely complimented him on how nice the house looked. They'd walked into the kitchen and they still had barely said a word to each other and Michael's skin was starting to itch. He wasn't good with silences, had never been the quiet kind of type, but he couldn't think of anything to say and it was frustrating as hell. So he did the next best thing he could think of.

He used his magic.

“Hey, you wanna see a cool trick?” He'd asked Luke, who'd nodded, shyly looking up from the floor. “Okay, so, uh, would you like some tea?” Michael started, and Luke had nodded again, still shy but now also slightly curious.

“Watch,” He'd said, and then he'd waved his hand, maybe with a little bit more show than strictly necessary, and the kettle that had been standing on the counter started flying towards the tap to fill itself with water. After it seemed full enough it floated towards the stove, which turned itself on with a flick of Michael's wrist. “I could try and like, heat it with my magic, but I haven't quite mastered fire magic yet. So I'll just go with the stove,” Michael has said, with a shrug. He'd noticed Luke staring at him in pure awe, and he tried to ignore the light blush creeping up on his cheeks at that. Between Calum, who has seen Michael use magic since they were eight, and his family, who mostly consisted of witches, it's been awhile since someone was truly impressed by his magic. Luke, however, already seems completely spell bound by just this simple magic, and Michael would be lying if he said he didn't like it. He'd tried to shrug it off though, instead focusing back on his task of making tea. “Now for the best part. Do you take any sugar or milk in your tea?”

“Just, uh,” Luke had cleared his throat, like he had momentarily forgotten how to use his voice. “Just two sugars please.”

“Coming right up,” Michael had said cheerily, before opening one of the cupboards with his hand and letting two mugs, the sugar bowl, and two teabags float out. With his other hand he opens a drawer and lets two teaspoons float up in the sky to join the rest of the stuff.

Now usually Michael would just dump everything on the counter and start arranging his tea, but this was different. He needed to lighten the mood, needed to show Luke he wasn't going to go back to hating him (didn't think he ever could, not after he learned how honestly _great_ Luke was). Needed to show Luke that they could have fun, together, without Calum.

So he lets the teacups dance around Luke's head, quickly joined by the teaspoons and the teabags. He places the sugar bowl on the counter but lets the sugar float out, so the grains are sparkling around the cutlery and the teabags like tiny little snowflakes. He lets all of it dance around Luke's head for a while, reveling in the awestruck, gleeful look on Luke's face. He seems so entranced, hands in the air as if he wanted to reach out and touch but forgot halfway. Michael lets the sugar swirl through the sky, looping around Luke's hands, and Luke giggles, a sound Michael never wants to stop.

The whole scene is shattered by the sudden whistling of the kettle, and Michael almost drops everything he's been floating through the kitchen. He manages to catch them last minute and places them back on the counter, the spell broken. Luke's still giggling though, and he's looking at Michael with an open smile on his face, and as Michael lets the sugar float back into the sugar bowl and picks up the kettle he thinks, job well done.

–

The tea becomes a thing, after that. It's not even in that flashy, obvious kind of way, just whenever Luke comes over to Michael's house Michael will let the teacups dance around his head and the sugar swirl through the air while they wait for the water to heat up.

Today is no exception, despite the turmoil that's Michael's head at the moment. It shows, though, that something's wrong, because the teacups are a tiny bit more aggressive than otherwise and the swirls of sugar insist on consistently forming tiny hearts in the sky. Michael steadfastly ignores it, hoping Luke won't notice.

If he does, he doesn't seem to care. Luke just watches the sugar swirls sweep through the air with a fond look on his face. It's a shadow of the complete awestruck look on his face he had when he first saw Michael do this trick, but it's always better than Calum's disinterested, dismissive wave or Ashton annoyed frown. Michael lets the sugar weave its way through Luke's fingers and Luke giggles softly. It still sounds beautiful. It always sounds beautiful.

When the tea is finally finished they take their mugs into the living room and spread their books out over the table and the couch. Michael's parents are barely ever home in the afternoon, and Michael's room is almost always a mess, so they prefer to study downstairs.

Luke cuddles into one of the corners of the couch and starts grabbing his pencils and notebooks and Michael has to try very hard not to join him, snuggle up to Luke and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist for a while. But he can't, so he doesn't and instead grabs his own books and sits down on the other side of the couch, pretending to be focused on his work. Pretending the way Luke frowns down at his work in concentration isn't extremely distraction. Pretending the way the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth isn't making Michael think about all the other things he can do with that tongue. Pretending like he doesn't notice the way Luke looks so at home on his couch, like he belongs there. Like isn't supposed to be anywhere else but curled up next to Michael on the couch.

Michael's teaspoon starts floating in Luke's direction, followed by one of his notebook. Michael grabs them out of the sky before Luke can notice.

“So, uh, what did you say you needed help with again?”

–

They work for about an hour, and Michael is going slowly insane. It's not. It's not his magic this time, thank god. It's just. There's so many things that Luke does, naturally, that just never really occurred to Michael prior to realizing he has a crush on him.

Like the fact that he literally drapes himself all over Michael when Michael's pointing something out in a textbook. Or how he scrunches up his nose really adorably when he's confused. Or how his eyes light up when he finally gets something. Or how he presses his nose to Michael's shoulder and whines when he's bored and doesn't want to study anymore. Or how he. Never. Stops. Biting. His. Lip. When. He's. Thinking.

And the list goes on. And on. And on.

So yeah, Michael's going slowly insane. And he needs a break. So when Luke finally gets a piece of text they've been going over for the past ten minutes, Michael's immediately stands up, throws the book back on the couch, and announces he's going to grab them more tea and maybe something to eat.

Luke looks up at him, wide pleading eyes, as he asks him if he'll bring them back microwavable popcorn and. Well. Do you really expect Michael to say now to The Luke Hemmings Pout™? Of course not.

So that's how he ends up in the kitchen, tea brewing and popcorn popping, repeatedly slamming his head against the refrigerator. He wishes he could’ve picked someone else to fall in love with. Someone easier. Someone who wasn’t his kind, caring, _hot_ best friend. Someone who would, like, actually love Michael back. But unfortunately you don’t choose who you fall in love with, and Michael is stuck with this weird crush and his even weirder magic. Because of course things can’t just be simple and easy for Michael. Of course they can’t.

Speaking of.

“Uh, Michael?” Luke’s voice sounds confused, but also a little bit alarmed. “Michael, like, I don’t know if this is normal, but uh… Actually could you maybe come in here? I don’t… I really don’t know how to explain this.” Okay, Luke sounds _definitely_ alarmed, and Michael lifts his head from where it was leaning against the fridge to see what’s wrong, when something makes him stop dead in his tracks. Or, when _every single kitchen appliances the Clifford family owns_ makes him stop dead in his tracks. Because, well. All of them, from the teaspoon to the freaking coffeemaker, are steadily floating towards the living room. Or, knowing Michael’s recent incidents with magic, towards Luke.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me,” Michael mutters as he grabs the coffeemaker and tries to manhandle it back on his spot on the kitchen counter. Every time he puts it down it just floats back up again and eventually Michael lets out a frustrated growl, shoves the machine in one of the cabinets (carefully to make sure the pots and pans that are in there don’t escape) and slams the door close. He ignores the sound of the coffeemaker steadily bumping against the inside of the cabinet door as he stalks out of the kitchen.

It’s. Well. It’s an interesting sight, the living room. Luke’s still sitting on the couch, right where Michael left him, but now he’s surrounded by multiple kitchen appliances that are floating around his head, and he has the microwave in his lap. Michael can hear the faint sound of popcorn popping inside it. “I’m really confused,” Luke eventually says, when Michael has been standing there staring that the mess in front of him for at least a good minute. “About what is going on. But I think it might have something to do with your magic.”

Oh _god_ is Luke right. This has Michaels stupid weird love magic written all over it. Especially when an assembly of teaspoons starts forming a heart above Luke’s head. Michael’s just glad they’re doing it somewhere Luke can’t see it. “I am _so_ sorry,” Michael says, shocking into movement and rushing over to Luke to take the microwave from his lap. Just like the coffeemaker it seems very persistent on not doing what Michael wants, and Michael’s attempts to lift it are fruitless. It doesn’t really help that one of the soup ladles is consistently poking him in the back, probably trying to get him to fall forward right in Luke’s lap. Michael faintly thinks this would be a great story to tell his kids later. ‘And then the soup ladle tried to get us to make out.’ How is this his life.

The microwave pings (Michael’s kind of surprised it was still working, especially since it doesn’t appear to be plugged in anymore, but well, magic) and it’s like it’s the sign for everything to just _stop._ All the kitchen appliances start floating back into the kitchen. The knives holding what appears to be a duel to the death on their way and a few teaspoons drawing a sloppy heart here and there. The soup ladle floats up to Michael’s head to poke him in the head one last time and then floats off, leaving Michael to rub his head in pain. Luke’s watching everything with an expression that appears to be a mix between confused and amazed.

“Okay, well, that seems to do it,” Michael says, now easily lifting the microwave out of Luke’s lap. It seems to be the only appliance that didn’t float back to the kitchen on his own. “I’m really sorry for that.”

Luke huffs out a laugh and looks up to Michael with sparkling eyes, “That was actually, kind of funny? It’s uh, it’s definitely interesting.”

Michael sighs and walks back to the kitchen with the microwave, Luke following him closely. “But Mikey, I really think you need to get this thing checked out. It’s, it’s really starting to worry me. Can you imagine having guests over and suddenly it’s like ‘oh, here, have a fucking microwave.’ I really don’t think that will go down all that well.” Michael snorts. He really doesn’t think that will be a problem any time soon.

“Hey,” Luke says, frowning, clearly taking Michael’s snort as some sort of dismissive noise. “I’m serious! What if it’s dangerous? Can you imagine if that had been like, I don’t know, the dishwasher instead of the microwave? That, I’m pretty sure that would’ve killed me.”

The color drains from Michael’s face for a second at the possibility, but then he figures the last thing Michael’s weird love magic would want to do is _kill_ his love interest. Probably. But he can’t tell Luke that, just like he can’t tell Luke why dumping microwaves in other peoples laps won’t be a problem. He busies himself with hooking the microwave back up while he thinks of something he can say. “I’ll, uh, double check with my mom, yeah? See if there’s anything I can do. In the mean time I promise I won’t be dropping anymore microwaves in your lap. Probably.”

Luke smiles hesitantly and softly punches Michael in the shoulder. “Just be careful, yeah? I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

As Luke walks out of the kitchen again, Michael watches him go. He thinks about how Luke is so loving, and caring, but will never love and care the way Michael wants him to and figures it’s already too late for the not getting hurt part. He can already feel his heart cracking with every passing moment. The longer this lasts, the more he realizes he will never have a chance. The more he realizes that his crush will never, ever be requited.

The rest of the afternoon passes without any problems. They study, they talk, they laugh, and when Luke leaves, Michael closes the door behind him with a definite click. Hecate appears in the hallway, and Michael can almost _see_ the judgmental look he figures she must be sending him. He sighs deeply. “I know, Hec. I know.” He mutters, as he leans back against the door and lets his head fall back against the wood. “I’m fucked.”

\--

The next day at school Calum finally manages to catch Michael alone, much to Michael’s annoyance.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Calum says, as he falls down in the seat next to Michael. It’s lunch time, and Michael had been peacefully munching on his sandwich before Calum decided to interrupt. Michael glares at Calum. Calum glares right back.

“I’ve been busy.”

Calum raises an eyebrow. “With what? Pining over Luke? Because unlike that oblivious idiot, I’m not dumb Michael. I’ve seen what your magic has been doing lately, and I _know_ it’s not a magical hiccup. Magical hiccups don’t draw hearts with pencils, or god forbid, with _fries_.”

Michael sighs and plucks at his sandwich. “It’s nothing. Leave it.” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind his words. There’s no use. Calum knows, and Michael knows that Calum knows. And Calum knows that Michael knows that Calum knows. Or something like that. Bottom line is, Calum knows Michael better then he knows himself, and he probably figured out what was happening before Michael did. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise Michael if Calum had known long before the magic fiasco that Michael was in love with Luke. Looking back on it, he wasn’t ever really subtle about his adoration for the boy.

“It’s not _nothing_ , Michael. This is, fuck, this is going to get out of hand if you don’t do something about it, you and I both know that.” Calum picks up his own sandwich and takes a bite, sending Michael a knowing look.

“Do something about it?” Michael repeats, throwing his hands into the air, “Oh my god Calum, what a _genius_ idea! I can’t believe I didn’t think about that! Only, I did. And there’s _nothing I can do_. So please can we just, like, not talk about it? That would be great.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, Michael, stop being such a dramatic whiney baby. Of course there’s something you can do about it. Your magic is acting weird because you’re crushing on Luke, right? So, it seems to me that the only way you can solve this, is by _telling him_.”

Michael snorts. “Yeah, no, thanks. That’s _definitely_ not going to work. Can you imagine? ‘Hey, Luke, funny story, I’m kind of in love with you and now my magic is weird. Sorry for dropping a microwave on your lap, it was just me declaring my undying love for you.’”

“You dropped a microwave on his lap?” Calum asks, confused.

Michael waves his hands around aggressively, “Not the _point_ , Calum. The point is that, fuck, if I tell him, the only thing that’s going to change is that it’s going to be super awkward between us. Hell, knowing me my magic won’t even let it go, and then it will still be acting weird around Luke, except now he knows _why_ and it’s just going to be awkward. Don’t mind me if I politely decline that option.” Michael sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t. I don’t want Luke and me to stop being friends, Cal. I can’t have this ruin our friendship. I’ll…. I’ll find another way. I’ll learn to deal with it. But I _can’t_ tell him. Never.”

Calum frowns at him. “What I get from this is that you don’t think there’s a possibility that Luke likes you back?” He sounds genuinely confused, which makes Michael kind of really confused.

“Uh, I don’t really think that’s an option, Cal. I mean, have you _seen_ Luke? Do you really think someone like him is going to fall for, well, me? Like, that’s literally the last thing on my list of possible outcomes in this weird situation.” Michael refuses to look Calum in the eyes, instead opting for poking at his sandwich. He frowns when he accidentally freezes a piece of lettuce.

“Are we talking about the same Luke here? The same Luke that’s currently in a frenzy because he genuinely thinks this ‘magic hiccup’ you supposedly have is something that could really hurt you. The same Luke that looks at you with these huge sad puppy eyes whenever you’re not looking. The same Luke that like, literally worships the ground you walk on. That Luke?”

Michael picks up the frozen piece of lettuce and taps it against the table to see if it breaks. It doesn’t. “Luke doesn’t. He’s like that with everyone.”

Calum sighs, sounding frustrated. “You two are so hopeless. Yes, it’s true that Luke is a genuinely nice person. But he isn’t _like that_ with everyone. He, I don’t know how to explain it, but he acts differently around you. He, I think he likes you Michael. In the same way you like him.”

“You _think_. That’s the problem isn’t it? You _think_ he might like me. But you don’t _know_. And I just, I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing him as a friend. In the end, I think,” Michael sighs and places drops the frozen piece of lettuce back on his plate. It shatters into a million tiny pieces. Kind of like his heart. “In the end I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.”

“Oh, Michael,” Calum sighs, and sends Michael a sympathetic look. Michael ignores him, staring at the shattered pieces of lettuce on his plate. “I just, I’m here for you, yeah? No matter what happens. Please remember that.”

Michael looks up to find Calum looking at him seriously, like he’s literally willing to fight anyone who will hurt Michael right in that moment and Michael shakes his head fondly. No matter what happens, ever, Calum will always have his back. It’s a really heartwarming thought. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely, and Calum smiles, before taking a bite of his sandwich again.

“Hello!” Luke suddenly says, as him and Ashton suddenly appear at their table. Michael is forever grateful for their impeccable timing. Who knows what would’ve happened if they had showed up in the middle of his and Calum’s earlier conversation? If they’d heard any of that?

“You’re late,” Calum says, stealing a piece of chicken off of Ashton’s plate. “Why are you late.”

“We were in the library,” Ashton says, swatting at Calum’s hand. “Because _someone_ ,” he pointedly looks at Luke, “Wanted to look into magical diseases. Because _someone_ ,” he pointedly looks at Michael this time, “Has apparently been dropping microwaves into peoples lap.

“One time,” Michael groans. “One time you _maybe_ drop a microwave into someone’s lap, possibly along with some other kitchen appliances, and they will _never_ let it go.”

“Hey,” Luke says, blushing a little, “I’m just worried about you, okay? I’m just, what if it’s something serious? I just, I wanted to help.” He’s looking down at his plate, avoiding Michael’s eyes and Michael is torn between crying and screaming.

Because _god_. Luke gave up on precious lunch time to do incredibly boring research in the library because he was _worried_. He even managed to drag Ashton along for the whole thing. All because Michael goes around making soup ladles float and fries dance. How does Michael deserve to have Luke in his life, honestly. “Thank you,” He says, earnestly. He keeps it at that, because he’s scared that if he keeps talking he will say things like ‘You’re the best person ever’ or ‘I love you’.

Luke looks up at him and smiles softly. Michael melts. In the background, Calum and Ashton have continued their discussion on the combination of fries and ketchup.

Michael tries to see things on the positive side. Like, yeah, he has an unrequited crush on his best friend, but at least his sandwich didn’t burst out in a dramatic rendition of ‘I Can’t Help Falling In Love’ with backing vocals from his cutlery and a dance routine by his milkshake or some other weird shit.

\--

The weekend passes by without any really weird things happening. (Unless you call the letter vermicelli in Michael’s soup on Sunday afternoon spelling out ‘Michael and Luke forever’ really weird, but at this point Michael really doesn’t. Weirder stuff has happened.) Michael thinks this is linked to the fact that he doesn’t see Luke all weekend, and he’s not really sure how he feels about that. On one hand, he’s glad he gets a full two days of peace and quiet. On the other hand, he actually really misses Luke. Which is weird, because honestly they’ve gone longer without seeing each other. Stupid newly discovered crush.

Michael mostly spends his weekend catching up on homework, petting Hecate, and playing video games, so by the time Monday rolls around Michael’s feeling a lot more relaxed and ready to take on the new week. There’s a bit of fear in his chest though, scared at what will happen when he sees Luke again later that day, but he ignores it. After all, ‘ignoring it until it goes away’ has really been going great so far.

That totally wasn’t sarcastic.

Anyway, Monday rolls around, and Michael’s ready for anything. Sort of. He’s mildly prepared. Okay actually he is not prepared for anything that can possibly happen, but he figures he will wing it. If something even happens. Maybe this stupid love magic thing is finally over. Now _that_ would be great news.

It’s not over. Michael spends most of his lunchtime trying to stop the small army of tomato slices that has gathered themselves on their plate from hopping over to Luke to do, well, god knows what they’re planning to do when they reach Luke. Michael really hopes they won’t find out. Calum spends most of lunch frowning at him, Ashton seems like he’s finally catching on (glancing between Michael, Luke, and the tomatoes with wide eyes) and Luke is still blissfully oblivious.

All and all, it could be worse.

And because Michael’s life is fucking ridiculous and the universe hates him, it does actually get worse. It happens Tuesday, during lunch, just when Michael thinks that _maybe_ he can deal with this whole magic thing. Just when he’s starting to believe he can just spend the rest of his life smashing down tomato armies and lettuce gangs and that he doesn’t have to do something super _dumb_ like actually confess his feelings to Luke.

“Hey Mikey,” The source of all his magic related problem says, as he sits down across from Michael. “Uh, you know how we always like, have study sessions at my house on Tuesday, right?” Luke looks down at his lunch and pokes at his sandwich. “Would it be okay if we, uh, not did that today?”

And, well. All right. That’s. That’s no big deal. Like, at all. It’s not like Luke has never cancelled a study session before since they started or anything. It’s not like Michael _craves_ Tuesday study session with Luke. That’s. That would be ridiculous. Besides, Luke is, there’s no way in hell Luke is cancelling because he somehow found out Michael’s weird feelings for him, right? That’s like, definitely not what’s happening here. Luke must have a super good reason to cancel. Like, life or death.

No Michael isn’t fucking panicking, where are you talking about?

“We, uh, Ashton and I have this super important project due on Wednesday and we were supposed to work on it this weekend but then Ashton’s mom got called into work and Harry was sick so Ash had to go take care of him so now we _still_ haven’t finished it and I _really_ can’t afford a bad grade. Ashton can’t afford one too, to be honest, but don’t tell him I said that. We just, uh, could really use the afternoon to finish it, you know? If that’s, if that’s okay?” Luke still looks nervous, refusing to look directly at Michael.

“So you’re cancelling Tuesday study sessions,” Michael says, slowly, carefully. “To hang out with Ashton?” It’s. Michael isn’t bitter about this. He isn’t petty. I mean, yeah, Luke and Ashton were friends long before Michael and Luke were and they have like, _history_ , but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that Luke prefers Ashton over Michael. Michael’s being ridiculous, he _knows_ Luke doesn’t have any, like, _feelings_ for Ashton. Or at least he doesn’t think he does. But still. It’s. Well. Michael doesn’t like feeling like he’s being replaced.

Luke’s head immediately shoots up. “No, I’m, we need to work on this project! I’m not, I’m not _cancelling_ Tuesday study sessions! I’m just, not this week? Can’t we, we can study on Wednesday, right? Or Thursday, like last week!” Luke pauses, and smiles a bit. “I mean, as long as you promise not to drop any more microwaves on my lap.”

“One time! That was one time!” Michael squawks. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

Luke smirks, “Probably not.”

Michael huffs. “Rude. But, yeah, it’s fine. If you want to work on the project with Ashton, I mean. It’s uh, we can study again next week, right? It’s just, it’s just this week.”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely, it’s just this week.” Luke says, nodding so fast Michael momentarily thinks Luke’s accidentally going to injure his neck.

“Good. Because I, uh-“ Before Michael can do something dumb, like declare his undying love for Luke or propose to him or something else absurd, they get interrupted by Ashton and Calum, who fall down in the seats next to Luke and Michael and launch into some insane story about why they’re late. Michael zones out half way through, and spends most of his lunch watching Luke with what he really hopes aren’t sad puppy dog eyes. His tomatoes stay suspiciously unmoving.

\--

It’s so dumb. It’s honestly _so dumb_ that Michael is this effected by Luke canceling their study session. It’s just, he hadn’t fully realized how much he really _needed_ to have some normal one on one time with Luke until it was taken from him. Although, who says it would’ve been normal? Fuck, knowing Michael’s magic something weird probably would’ve happened again that would have Luke worried and then Michael had to lie again and.

And maybe it’s for the better that they didn’t get to hang out. But still. Michael _wanted_ to hang out with Luke. And now Luke’s hanging out with Ashton. And it isn’t like Michael hates Ashton, no, far from it even. Michael loves Ashton, he really does. But it’s. It’s so stupid, but Ashton is Luke’s oldest friend. Luke and Ashton have known each other the longest. And Michael hates to be reminded of the fact that there’s probably people who Luke cherries more in his life than Michael. Which is stupid, but he just. Michael just wants to be the most important person in Luke’s life. Call him greedy, but he just really wants to be Luke’s number one. And Luke cancelling on him, even though he has never before, to hang out with Ashton jut reminds Michael of the fact that he really isn’t. He’s like, number three, maybe. Number two, if he’s lucky. But he will never be number one.

His magic stays quiet though, so that’s a good thing. Or well, Michael _thinks_ his magic has stayed quiet. When he comes to school the next morning, he figures out that it hasn’t, in fact, stayed quiet. Far from quiet, even. Loud. Some would call it vibrant, even.

“Your hair is pink,”  Michael states, when Ashton stalks up to him the next morning. He doesn’t look particularly happy. “It looks nice?” Michael ads, when Ashton just glares at him.

“Listen up, Clifford.” Ashton says, threateningly pointing his finger at Michael. His whole intimidating pose thing is kind of ruined by the fact that his hair is _pink_. Like, super bright fluorescent pink. Michael didn’t lie earlier, it actually does really look nice. But it’s not very menacing. Michael snorts and opens his mouth to say something along the lines of “What’s up, fairy floss?”.

“No, shut your fucking mouth.” Ashton actually looks kind of really mad. Michael closes his mouth. “Michael, I get this whole unrequited love magic thing that’s happening to you right now, and I get that it kind of sucks.” Michael’s eyes widen and now it’s Ashton’s time to snort. “What, you think I hadn’t caught on by now? Fuck, it’s a miracle Luke hasn’t noticed yet. You basically have ‘IN LOVE WITH LUKE HEMMINGS’ tattooed on your forehead at this point. Anyway,” The scowl returns to Ashton’s face, like he suddenly realizes he was supposed to be mad at Michael. “Like I said, I get it, this whole crush thing, and it sucks, and I really feel for you, _but don’t bring my fucking hair into your pathetic attempt at suppressing your feelings for Luke_.”

“What.” Michael says, confused. “What do you mean, ‘bring your hair into this’? I promise I had nothing to do with the fact that your hair actually looks kind of really edible now. I mean I _wish_ I had thought of that because that is an _awesome_ prank, but nope. Wasn’t me. This time”

“Oh my god,” Ashton scrubs his hand over his face, “Why are all my friends so fucking _dense_ , Jesus Christ.” He looks up again and places his hands on Michael’s shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to say this slowly and clearly, so even your fucking dumb brain can catch on: Your magic. Made my hair. Turn pink.”

“That’s impossible,” Michael says, “I wasn’t even near you since like, yesterday.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Ashton looks about five seconds away from literally ripping his hair out. And then shoving it down Michael’s throat. “You got jealous, yesterday. Because Luke was hanging out with me instead of you.” Michael pulls a face and Ashton makes a dismissive hand movement. “Oh, don’t even fucking deny it. We both know that’s what fucking happened. You got jealous, your magic got involved, and the second I stepped over Luke’s threshold, my hair turned pink.”

Michael gulps. “What, What did you tell Luke?”

Ashton stares at him like he can’t believe _that’s_ what Michael decided to focus on. Then he takes a deep breath. “I told him that you’re madly in love with him and that your magic made my hair pink.”

“ _What?!_ ” Michael yells, panic gripping at his throat.

Ashton looks unimpressed. “Of course I didn’t tell him that, you idiot. Jesus, how dumb do you think I am? I’m not going to get involved in the weird ‘dancing around each other’ thing you have going on. Especially not now there’s magic involved. Magic that _turned my hair pink_.”

Michael winces. “I’m. I’m really sorry about that. I wish there’s anything I could do but, it’s.” Michael laughs, albeit a little bit hysterically, “It’s all a bit unpredictable, to be honest.”

Ashton’s expression softens. “I know. And like I said before, I really do feel for you. But I can’t go walking around with pink hair, that’s just not going to happen. So I told Luke it was your weird magical hiccup thing that did this and that you wanted to meet him in the library later today to see if you two could fix it. Together.”

“ _Ashton_ ,” Michael stresses, panic clear in his voice. “That’s like the worst idea _ever_. The last time we were together I dropped a microwave in his lap. And now your hair is pink. I need to get this under control first. Without him.”

Ashton snorts. “First of all, there are no microwaves in the library and your hair is already ridiculously colored anyway, so that won’t be a problem. Second of all, _you need to talk to him_. Avoiding him isn’t going to solve this. Talking to him is. And who knows, the outcome might actually surprise you.”

Michael huffs, “Yeah, right.”

The hands on his shoulders disappear as Ashton takes a step away from him and sighs, softly. “You need to fix this, Michael. You need to talk to him. Not because of my hair, or so you will finally be able to eat in peace without having to battle an army of strangely determined sandwich toppings, but because you owe it to him. He’s your best friend. He deserves to know the truth.”

And then Ashton walks away, his bright hair standing out in the crowd, and Michael is left alone with his thoughts.

\--

Michael is pretty convinced that this is the worst idea Ashton’s ever had. Like, Ashton is a smart dude. He gets good grades, generally says pretty smart things. He’s got a good set of brains under his now fluorescent pink hair. But putting Luke and Michael together, while Michael has just realized he has a massive crush on his best friend and has tried to smother him in microwaves, is like the worst idea _ever_.

But there’s no way to tell Luke he can’t meet up with him without raising suspicion, and besides he does _really_ want to hang out with Luke, no matter how dangerous it might be. So that’s why he finds himself trudging towards the library, with mixed feelings in his heart.

Sometimes, he wishes he wasn’t born magical. It rarely ever happens, because he loves having magic, and he is proud of who he is, but still. Moments like these, where he can’t even hang out with his best friend because he’s scared his magic is going to do weird things, he wishes he was like Calum, or Ashton, or Luke. Ordinary. Magic-less.

It would suck, surely, but it would also mean being able to hang out with Luke without having to be scared about propelling fries his way. It would mean being able to deal with his crush without the added stress of pens writing ‘Michael loves Luke’ on every possible available surface. It would mean Luke would stop looking at him with so much worry every time his magic did something it wasn’t supposed to.

He wonders if Luke and him would even be friends in the first place, if Michael hadn’t had any magic. Especially since technically magic was the reason they even met in the first place.

And now magic was the one thing that was going to tear them apart.

As he pushes open the doors of the library he thinks about what would happen if he just told Luke, right now, that he didn’t want to be friends with him anymore. Luke would be upset, maybe, but he would get over it soon enough because there would be plenty of other people who would love to hang out with him. Calum and Ashton would definitely side with Luke, despite the fact that Calum and Michael have been friends longer, because that’s just the effect Luke has on people. Which would leave Michael all alone.

Over time he would probably get over his crush, especially if he didn’t see Luke every day anymore. His magic would go back to normal, and everything would be okay again. He would be alone, but at least everything would be normal.

He’s not sure if it would be worth it.

Michael’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t realize Luke is there until he’s right in front of him. “Hey Mikey!”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michael breaths out, “Stop scaring me, you prick.”

Luke frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He actually looks upset about it. Luke is quite literally the most ridiculous person Michael knows. “C’mon, I found the magic section in the library the other day. They actually have quite a lot of books about magic, did you know? It’s really interesting. Like, for example, did you know your magic is heavily influenced by your emotions? You probably do, but like, _how cool is that_.”

Michael suppresses the urge to snort and tell Luke that it’s actually very much _not_ cool. It’s quite literally the worst thing ever, if he’s being honest. But this does mean that Luke hasn’t figured out yet that the whole ‘magic and emotions’ thing and the recent weird behavior of Michael’s magic are actually very much related, which is at least something. Michael follows Luke through the library, and Luke seems to know exactly where to go in the maze of bookcases. It suddenly hits Michael that Luke’s been here before, been in the magic book section before, looking for books on magical hiccups. He was here with Ashton just a few days ago, while Michael was at lunch with Calum. Luke was actively trying to solve this. Luke was actively trying to _help_ him.

And all Michael’s done is lie to him. He feels kind of really miserable.

“Also, you know Ashley? Frangipane?” Luke asks, as they come to halt in a specific isle. Michael has no idea where they are, but the book next to him is titled ‘All You Need Is Trust And A Little Pixie Dust: How Disney Changed Our View On Magic’ so he figures they must’ve reached the books about magic.

“Yeah, we’re friends, I guess? We used to be in the same ‘Controlling Your Magic’ class when we were younger. Why?” Michael distractedly runs his finger over the spine of ‘Furrytale: Why Cats Are Naturally Attracted To Magic’. He jumps about ten feet into the air when the book lets out a soft purring noise and quickly takes a few steps back, closer to Luke, who’s absentmindedly flicking through one of the books.

“Well, you know, since she’s the only witch I kind of know, I asked her about your, well, your magic hiccup thing.” Luke continues, and suddenly the hairs on the back of Michael’s neck stand right up. He considers Ashley a friend, yes, but honestly, Ashley doesn’t know them that well. Ashley doesn’t know about Michael’s crush on Luke, or how Luke doesn’t like him back. Doesn’t know about pining and unrequited feelings and all that bullshit. But Ashley’s not stupid. She’s a witch. She can recognize love related magic when she sees it. Or well, in this case, hears about it. And if she told Luke… Michael really doesn’t want to think about it.

“What,” he takes a deep breath. “What did she say?” Keep calm, nothing’s wrong, he’s not mad at you, he’s not yelling at you, knowing Ashley, she probably didn’t tell him anything useful.

Luke frowns, and places the book back on the shelf. “She, uh, kind of laughed at me? I think? I just, I told her how your magic was acting up and doing all these weird things and she just started laughing. Really hard.” Luke’s frown deepens. “And then when she’d finally calmed down she just patted me on the head, which was truly an achievement, because well, she’s not really that tall, is she? Anyway, then she told me, and I quote, ‘All of you are fucking idiots and I’m very amused right now. But I can’t help you. Just ask Mikey what’s up.’ So, I know I technically already asked you before, but, uh, I guess I just have to, well, what’s up?” Luke looks nervous, grabbing another book from the shelf and shifting the weight of it from hand to hand.

Michael huffs, “I’m fine.” He refuses to look Luke in the eyes. Wouldn’t be able to stand the genuinely worried look. Once again, Michael feels like absolute fucking _shit_. Luke trusts him. Luke thinks they are friends. And they _are_. They are friends, but that isn’t what Michael wants anymore and he feels horrible about it. He wants more, he wants everything. And because of that, their friendship is falling apart. Every time him and Luke have interacted in the past week something weird or bad has happened, and Michael feels himself thinking that maybe, _maybe_ , it’s just easier for him to avoid Luke. To just, stop being his friend. Because Michael can’t be the person Luke thinks he is anymore.

Even right now, when they’re having a serious conversation and Luke’s all worried about him, all Michael can think about is how beautiful looks, even in the shitty library lighting. It’s too bright, and Michael thinks he must look like a ghost himself, with his pale white skin. But Luke, even in the too bright lighting of the stuffy library, Luke looks radiant. He’s fiddling with the book in his hands, and he’s not looking at Michael, but the light catches his eyelashes, the faint worry lines by his mouth, the soft strands of hair that are falling across his forehead.

Michael’s been so caught up in the whole magic thing that he kind of forget that he is _in love with Luke_. The past week it had started to feel more and more like a concept, like something that was causing his magic to act weird, not something that was actually _real_. It hurts, almost, the realization that no matter what happens Michael will always have these feelings for Luke, magic or not.

Michael is in love with Luke. Michael will probably always be in love with Luke. And there’s nothing that’s going to change that, and it’s always going to be unrequited. It’s always just going to be Michael and these stupid, _stupid_ feelings.

Moments like these he wishes he could just rip his heart out his chest and crush it, until all that was left was a hand full of powder and an empty chest. Then, he would never have to feel again. He would never have to look at Luke again with the overwhelming urge to touch, to hold, to _love_. He would be free.

But that can’t happen, and his heart is still in his chest, and it’s still beating painfully for Luke.

“Mikey,” Luke says, breaking Michael from his thoughts, and his voice is soft, caring, worried. “Michael, _please_. Please just tell me what’s wrong.” He’s sounds a bit desperate now, and Michael shakes his head, balls his hands into fists, and tries to act like that tone of voice doesn’t hurt as much as it does.

“I told you, it’s _nothing_.” It doesn’t sound very convincing.

“Did I, did I do something wrong? Is that why you won’t tell me?” Luke looks truly hurt now, like the idea of him hurting Michael is the worst possible thing he could think of, and Michael feels possibly even _worse_.

“You didn’t, It’s nothing you did, Luke, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

‘It’s just that you’re perfect and beautiful and so, _so_ bright and I went and fell in love with you,’ Michael thinks. But he doesn’t say that. In the end, it’s not Luke’s fault. Nothing of it is Luke’s fault. Michael can’t just go and blame Luke for _existing_. No, this is all on him. He’s the one who fell in love, he’s the one with the fucked up magic, he’s the one keeping it from Luke.

“Then why won’t you _tell me_?” Luke looks positively upset now. Like, he actually looks about five seconds away from crying and that’s the _last_ thing Michael wants. To make Luke _cry_. “It’s, it can’t be that bad can it? I, I mean, I thought I was one of your best friends? I don’t understand why you won’t tell me what’s wrong. I’m _worried_ , Mikey. I’m worried about you.” He looks down at the toes of his shoes. “I, to me, you’re. You’re my best friend, Mikey. And I really care about you. I just, I just want to know what’s wrong. I just want to help.” The last words are whispered, aimed at the ground, and it’s quite possibly the worst thing Michael’s ever heard in his _life_.

Luke is upset because Michael won’t tell him what’s wrong, but Michael _can’t_. He can’t tell Luke, not when he just told Michael he sees him as his best friend. _Friend_. Nothing more. Never anything more. “I’m sorry,” Michael whispers, voice hoarse, desperately willing Luke to look up so he can see the sincerity in Michael’s eyes. He doesn’t. “I really am. But I, I can’t. I can’t tell you.”

Luke finally looks up at that, and now he just looks frustrated. “But _why_? Why can’t you tell me?”

There’s something electric building up under Michael’s skin. It’s anger, anger at himself for falling for his best friends, for falling for the one person he trusted the most in the world and now can’t anymore. It’s fear, fear that Luke’s going to find out anyway, that he’s going to guess it. It’s frustration, frustration at his magic, at not being able to just tell Luke, frustration at being trapped in a situation like this.

It’s a whirlwind of emotions, and Michael’s experience with strong emotions has never really been, well, good.

“I just,” He balls his hands at his sides, feels the turmoil of emotions coursing through his veins, feels faint sparks of energy sparking at his fingers. “I just can’t okay,” He looks up, right into Luke’s sad, betrayed eyes. “I just _can’t_.”

It feels like he yells the last word, if only to make sure it’s heard over the rattling of his bones, the sound of the blood rushing through his ears, the sound of the _bookcase next to them exploding into a flurry of books and pages and chunks of wood_.

The force of the explosion knocks both Michael and Luke over, and Michael can hear Luke’s voice over the noise, clear as if he was speaking right in his ear, yelling his name. All the can see is pages and book covers and _Luke, where is Luke, where is Luke_. After Michael heard him yell his name he’s been silent, and as the papers around them settle, he’s on his hands and knees, searching through the wreckage, searching for his best friend, searching for _Luke_.

He finds him only seconds later, buried under all eighteen parts of the witchipedia. He’s unconscious, and there’s blood right above his eyebrow, where he was probably hit by a book. As soon as Michael sees the blood he lets out a strangled noise, and the truth of the situation suddenly hits him.

He hurt someone. He bottled up all his feelings and it got to a point where he _hurt someone_. And not just anybody. Luke. _He hurt Luke._ Luke’s in pain, Luke is _bleeding_ , because of Michael. Michael did that. He could blame his magic, but that would be a lie. _He_ was the one who kept hanging out with Luke. _He_ was the one who didn’t really do anything about it except complain. _He_ was the one to make Luke upset, which eventually led to Michael _exploding a bookcase_.

It’s like a mantra in his head. _‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

He barely registers people running up to them to see what happened, lifting Luke up and taking him to the nurse.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

Someone gets him up too. Someone who’s yelling at him. Someone who leads him to the principal’s office.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

More people yell at him. Michael takes it all in stride. He deserves it.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

They expel him for the rest of the week, and the week after that. Michael thinks that’s a pretty mild punishment. He deserves worse.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

His mom takes him home. She says ‘Oh, Michael’, in that sad disappointed voice that Michael hates.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

Later, he gets a text from Calum. ‘Luke’s okay. Small concussion.’ But Michael doesn’t think it’s okay. It’s not okay, because _Luke shouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place_. It’s the last thing Michael wanted to happen. He never, he never intended to _hurt_ Luke. Of course not. Fuck, he is in love with the boy, for fucks sake. All he wanted was for him to be happy. Preferably with Michael. He never meant for it to get out of hand like this. He should’ve done something. Should’ve fixed it before this happened. Shouldn’t have tried harder to make it stop. Should’ve-

He falls asleep. His dreams are messy and restless, but at least he sleeps.

_‘I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke, I hurt Luke.’_

\--

The next couple of days, Michael mopes. He’s not above admitting it. He’s totally, absolutely, one hundred percent moping. He barely talks to anyone, except for his mom and a few short text messages to Calum. Calum refuses to tell him how Luke is doing, says he just has to ‘ask Luke himself’, but they both know that’s not going to happen. Michael doesn’t think Luke would appreciate it, after Michael attempted to impale him with a freaking book. Michael knows he wouldn’t forgive him if he’d been Luke.

That’s the worst of it all, probably. That after trying so hard _not_ to lose Luke, after trying so hard to keep being friends with him, he screwed it up after all. He fucked it all up by letting his emotions get the better of him, and now Luke’s never going to want to talk to him ever again. He doesn’t really see Luke forgiving him for this. For putting him in danger, for _hurting him_.

He’s not sure what he’s going to do when he goes back to school in a few days. Avoid Luke forever, yes. But what about lunch? The four of them used to always sit together, and Michael doesn’t really see that happening now. Or well, if it does, it’s going to be really awkward. Maybe he’s just going to have to switch schools, get out of Luke’s life forever.

Just as he’s contemplating moving to the South Pole to join a penguin colony, his window swings open and Calum appears in his room. “What the fuck.” Is Michael’s rather eloquent reaction to suddenly find one of his best friends in his bedroom. “What the fuck?” He says again, because he’s confident that actually pretty much covers everything he wants to know from Calum right now.

Calum shrugs. “There’s a tree next to your window, did you know?” Of course Michael knows. He’s been living in this house longer than he’s even known Calum. And he’s known Calum since like, forever. “Always wanted to try getting into your room like that. This seemed like the perfect time. I mean, it’s almost a movie cliché, you all in the middle of your teen angst bullshit and then BOOM there’s your best friend sweeping in through the window ready to save the day.”

Michael shakes his head in fond exasperation. “That, okay that explains the window part. Doesn’t exactly explain why you’re here, though.”

“Wanted to see how you were doing,” Calum mutters, busying himself with closing the window. “After everything that happened Wednesday. You weren’t really…. Your texts weren’t really descriptive so I decided barging in and staging an intervention would be the next best possibility.” He pauses as he turns to look at Michael again. “So. That’s why.”

“I don’t,” Michael huffs, “I don’t need an intervention. I’m _fine_.”

This time it’s Calum’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You sure? You’re wearing your moping shirt.” He points at Michael’s Black Parade t-shirt.

Michael squawks as he looks down at the shirt. “I don’t- This is not my _moping_ t-shirt!”

Calum snorts. “It _so_ is. It’s the only thing you wore for a whole week after you exploded Luke’s homework. You wore it that weekend you and Luke had a fight because, fuck man I don’t even remember what that was about. You wore it during the summer vacation, when Luke was away with his fam-“ Calum cuts himself off mid-sentence. “Huh. Putting it like this, it might actually not be your moping shirt after all. It’s your ‘ _I’m sad about Luke_ ’ shirt.”

“Yeah,” Michael mutters, looking down at the floor, all the earlier joy and surprise at seeing Calum suddenly leaving his body at the reminder of Luke. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Oh, Mikey,” Calum says, taking a few steps forward so he’s suddenly right in front of Michael, resting his hands  on his shoulders. “He’s, he’s okay, you know that right? It’s, well, it’s a scratch, and there’s some bruising, but he’s okay. He’s still alive.”

Michael looks up at him, and suddenly he feels the tears threatening to spill out. “I, I _hurt him_ , Calum! I, fuck, I could’ve _killed him_!” He takes a shaky breath, and suddenly Calum’s right there, pulling him into his chest, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist, hugging him so tight Michael can’t breath for a second.

Calum just holds  him, doesn’t say anything, and for the first time since it happened, Michael lets himself cry. It’s mostly from exhaustion. Exhaustion from all the sleepless, restless nights. Exhaustion from all the thoughts that are bouncing through his head. Exhaustion from dealing with this, with all of it.

Michael cries, and when the sobbing finally subdues, he find he actually feels a lot better.

“I’m not going to say you did nothing wrong, because you have to face the truth, and the truth is that you _did_ hurt Luke. But it wasn’t your fault alone. It’s my fault too, for not being there for you. For not, fuck, for not helping you more. I had no idea how dangerous all this magic building up inside you was, but I should’ve known. I grew up with you, for fucks sake. I’ve known you since, like, forever. I should’ve been there for you and I wasn’t and I’m sorry for that.”

Calum sounds so genuine, so honest, that Michael almost starts crying all over. Instead he buries his face in Calum’s shoulder and takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” He mumbles, against the fabric of Calum’s t-shirt, and Calum momentarily tightens his grip on Michael’s waist in response.

“Besides, I, uh, talked to your mom?” Calum ads, and Michael’s head shoots up, surprised. “She uh, I came over, right after it happened. She told me it would be better to leave you alone for a few days, let you mope in peace. Looking back on it, she was probably right. You needed to, you probably just needed to gather your thoughts for a while. That’s why, that’s why it took me so long to come over. I wanted to give you the space you needed.”

Michael nudges his nose against Calum’s shoulder in thanks. Calum smiles and pats Michael’s back. “But she also told me a story. One she also told you, apparently. About her and your dad. About how her magic, too, acted weird when she fell in love with him. And how she hit him in the face with a chair when they first kissed. He had to go to the hospital, apparently.”

“He did,” Michael mumbled. “Laughed the whole way there, apparently.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Calum says. “Your mom, a witch, _hurt your dad_ , and you know what? He laughed about it. Because he knew it wasn’t her intention to hurt her. Because he loved her.”

Michael raises his head from Calum’s shoulder and squints at him. “What are you trying to say?”

Calum sighs and wipes the tear tracks from Michael’s cheek with the sleeve of his flannel. “That Luke will forgive you.”

Michael snorts. “Yeah, well, and why would he do that? We’re not my mom and dad. It didn’t happen while we were kissing. He didn’t laugh about it, because he was _unconscious_. And, to top it all off, _Luke doesn’t actually love me_.”

“Luke’s not okay right now,” Calum says and Michael opens his mouth to say something, because _really Calum, not helping_ , but Calum cuts him off. “Luke’s not okay, and you know why? Not because of his light concussion or the fact that he has a giant bruise above his eye. No, Luke is not okay right now _because he thinks his best friend is mad at him_. That’s right, Michael. Luke has been moping too, because he thinks he was pressuring you into telling you what was wrong, and that’s what set off your magic. Luke’s upset because he thinks he made you upset. Luke actually told Ashton that he’s scared that you don’t want to be friends with him anymore now.”

There’s a silence. Michael blinks. And he blinks again. It takes a while for it all to process and then Michael groans, “Are you _kidding me_? This boys is fucking _ridiculous.”_ He laughs, but it sounds kind of hysteric. He feels kind of hysteric. Luke’s not mad at him. Luke’s not mad at him. Luke’s not mad at him.

“You’re still going to have to talk to him, you know that, right?” Calum says, and Michael’s laughter breaks off mid wheeze. “And this time you’re not going to get away with saying you simply can’t tell him.”

“Calum, I _can’t_. I don’t, what if he doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore? What if I hurt him again?” Michael feels a little bubble of panic starting to settle in his stomach.

Calum sighs, “Look, Michael, I know this is all very stressful for you. But you love him. And he obviously cares about you, god knows why. I think it would be better, for both of you, if you just _talked about it_. This is _Luke_ we’re talking about, Michael. He’s not going to hate you because you want to hold his hand and skip to a meadow or some shit like that. And honestly, from what I’ve seen form him these past days, he might actually surprise you. He’s really, _really_ scared you two are going to stop being friends, Mikey. Don’t make his fears come true.”

Michael nods. Calum’s right. He and Luke need to talk. He needs to, he needs to tell Luke the truth. He needs to do all of those things, but not right now. Right now he’s exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and he just wants to nap for like, three years. Maybe get some cuddles. Pet Hecate. Just think about nothing for a while.

Calum, bless him, seems to know exactly what he’s thinking. He wordlessly lead Michael over to the bed and softly pushes him down on it, before walking off to retrieve Michael’s laptop. He turns on Netflix covers both of them in blankets, and pulls Michael into his chest. Michael settles immediately, relaxing against his best friends chest as he scrolls through Netflix and eventually settles on Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him?” Calum asks, hovering over the play button.

Michael nods against the soft fabric of Calum’s shirt. “I promise.”

He will. He will talk to Luke. But not right now. Right now he’s going to settle into Calum’s chest, pull his blanket a little closer, and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine until his eyes fall close.

\--

He doesn’t talk to Luke. He tries, a million times. Reaches for his phone to text him, tell him to come over, so they can talk it out, but he always stops halfway through. What is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry for pelting you with books, but I’m actually really _really_ in love with you?’ For some reason he doesn’t really think that will go down all that great. So he doesn’t talk to Luke, and he spends most of his free days playing video games and aggressively ignoring his phone.

Calum comes over a few times, and frowns at him every time he says he hasn’t gotten around to texting Luke yet. He looks about five seconds away from just grabbing the phone from Michael’s hand and texting Luke himself, but he refrains. He probably still holds the hope Michael will finally get his shit together and text Luke. Michael’s not sure if he has it in him.

It’s just. He’s immensely relieved to hear Luke isn’t actually mad at him, but he also feels really bad about making Luke worry. It’s so typically Luke, worrying about Michael being mad at him while Luke has every reason to hate _him_. It once again hits Michael that maybe he doesn’t deserve Luke, like, at all. He’s so forgiving, and such a genuinely good person, and all Michael does is fuck shit up.

He reaches a whole new level of moping on Sunday morning, when he realizes that he’s going to have to see Luke again when he’s going back to school on Monday. What is he even supposed to say to him? Is he even supposed to talk Luke in the first place? Or should he have Luke come to him? Is Luke mad because Michael didn’t text him? It’s all very stressful.

Calum comes over and spends an entire half hour actually listening to Michael before he blurts out “That’s fucking it.” and grabs his phone from his pocket. Michael thinks it’s kind of rude, how Calum just starts texting someone else right in the middle of Michael’s passionate speech about why exactly Luke is going to hate him forever, but honestly he can’t blame him. He drives himself mad with this whole crush on Luke most of the time, too.

“Come on,” Calum eventually says, abruptly pocketing his phone and standing up, “You’re coming over to my place. You desperately need a change of scenery and I want to watch ‘Into The Woods’ on a laptop that isn’t actually from the stone age.”

“Hey!” Michael squawks, “My laptop is _awesome_. You’re just jealous of the extraordinary qualities of my wireless computer device, admit it.”

Calum snorts, “Yes, I’m so fucking jealous of the way your laptop sometimes just like, refuses to turn on. That’s really something I wish my own laptop did. Irregular dysfunction is such a turn on.”

“Oh, _shut it_ ,” Michael grumbles, as he follows Calum out of the room.

He feels lighter somehow. Calum just does that to him. Makes him feel like maybe he will be okay on Monday, just with a little bit of banter. Makes him feel like maybe he can do this.

\--

He can’t do this and Calum is the worst best friend in the whole world. No, in the whole _universe_. As soon as he gets home he’s unfriending Calum on Facebook. If he ever gets out of here alive, which at this point he doesn’t think is a possibility.

Because Calum furiously texting and then suddenly dragging Michael over to his house? Not a coincidence. Calum saying Michael can just go upstairs and that he will just grab some snacks for them from the kitchen? Also not a coincidence. Luke standing in Calum’s bedroom when Michael enters? Guess what, definitely a coincidence. Ashton shutting the door behind Michael the second he turns around to flee? All part of the ‘we hate Michael Clifford and we want him to suffer’ plan!

So now he’s awkwardly standing in the doorway of Calum’s bedroom, while Luke standing next to the bed with a shocked and slightly terrified look on his face. He can hear Calum and Ashton yelling something from the other side of the door, something about ‘We won’t let you out until you get your shit together!’, but he isn’t really listening.

All he’s focusing on is that Luke’s _there_ , Luke is right in front of him, and well, honestly, he looks like shit.

His hair is flat and droopy, and hangs lifelessly over his forehead. He has bags under his eyes that have to be from more than just one night of bad sleep, and he looks pale. But worst of all is the bruising above his eye, where one of the books hit him square in the face and knocked him out. Even after more than a week it looks bad, all blue and purple with small hints of green and yellow. In the middle of it all is a small cut, where one of the book covers must’ve scratched him. If it looks like this after more than a week, Michael doesn’t want to know what it looked like only one or two days after it happened. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“I- I just, _your eye_.” It’s the first thing he’s said to Luke in a week and a half. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t really know anything right now. “I hurt you, you were hurt, you have a concussion, and it looks so _bad_ , too, oh my god, I _hurt_ you,” he’s just blabbering now, but it’s like the whole force of the situation finally truly hits him. He sees the painful bruising and all he can think is ‘I did that. I am responsible for that.’

“I haven’t even, I haven’t even apologized yet, have I? Because I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I swear I never meant to hurt you.” The word vomit won’t stop, and Luke’s not doing anything to put a halt to it either. He’s just standing there, staring with Michael with wide eyes like he can’t quite believe he’s here. Michael feels helpless, vulnerable, and it shows. There’s a light drizzle of snow falling down on them, coating the floor and the bed and Luke and Michael in a soft layer of white. Michael doesn’t even bother anymore. Why should he? His magic does whatever the fuck it wants anyway.

It seems to shock Luke back to life, and he starts furiously shaking his head, “You shouldn’t be, you shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I should. I was, I pushed you too far, it’s all my fault.” Luke’s voice sounds raspy, like he’s been screaming. Like he’s been _crying_. Michael tries not to think about it. ‘

“Are you kidding me? Luke you can’t be fucking serious right now,” Michael says, and it comes out harsher then he intended. The snow picks up and whirls around them, forming tiny tornados in the air. Luke flinches, and Michael mentally punches himself in the face. Great job making amends there Michael, really, A+. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You had every right to be worried and ask me about it. I, I was the one who was just, well, fucking everyone over by bottling up my feelings. I was the one who made those book cases explode. Well, my magic did, but I was partly responsible. Mostly responsible.”

“But I, I basically _pestered_ you into telling me what was wrong-“

“Luke,” Michael says, effectively cutting him off. “You were trying to help. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you were, uh, you were right. I was keeping something from you. Something that would’ve probably saved us a lot of trouble if I just had the guts to tell you sooner. But I didn’t, and I fucked everything up, and I hurt you because of it. But I think you deserve to know, after everything that happened.” Michael sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s covered in snow.

“Do whatever you want with the information, I just, I can’t keep lying to you. You deserve better.” Michael looks at Luke, who’s staring at him with wide, curious eyes. A little bit of snow lands on the tip of his nose. It looks adorable. Michael takes a deep breath. “Remember when you told me emotions effect your magic? In the library, before, well, before _it_ happened?”

Luke nods, wordlessly.

“Yeah, well, about that? I knew. Already. I mean, I knew it a long time already, but something that happened a little bit more recently really highlighted that fact again for me. I, uh, the whole thing with my magic acting weird recently? It’s because I. Well. I sort of realized I’m. I’minlovewithyou.”

Luke gapes at him. Blinks. “What?”

Michael takes another deep breath. “I, Michael Gordon Clifford, am in love with you, Luke Robert Hemmings.” It feels weirdly liberating to say it. To finally get it off his chest. To finally tell Luke how he really feels.

“ _What_?” Luke repeats, and he sounds a little bit hysteric now. “You can’t be- You’re in love with me? Me?”

“I, well, I mean if the whole microwave thing wasn’t a dead giveaway, I did just tell you that, yes. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t really vague about it or anything. I used our second names and everything.” Michael deadpans. Humor always seems his go to when he’s kind of feeling like he’s going to explode with nerves. Like he is right now. Luke is still gaping at him and it’s rather unnerving. Especially after you’ve just told someone you’re in love with them. Honestly, he was hoping for a little bit more of an ecstatic reaction, after everything he’s heard from Calum the past two weeks. Something a bit more joyful. But really, after all him and Luke have been through, he shouldn’t have any hopes at all.

“Yeah, but, me?” Luke still sounds very confused. And now, Michael is confused as well.

“Yes, you. I mean, unless you know any other long legged, broad shouldered blonds with ridiculously bright blue eyes named Luke, because in that case, I might have the wrong Luke. I mean, I really did think the Luke I know is smarter than this.”

Luke huffs and looks down at the floor. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m just, I’m very blown away by this all. I’ve, I’ve been in love with you for _years_ and honestly, I’d just, I’d given up hope thinking you could ever love me back and now _this_.” Luke laughs, a little bit on the hysteric side. “I mean, it does fit you, to first punch me in the face with a book and then declare your everlasting love for me. It’s all very… Michael.”

Michael’s brain short-circuits. Along with the rest of the house apparently, because suddenly the lights go out with a soft exploding noise, and they’re left standing in the soft light of the sun filtering through the window. He’s just. He’s. Well.

 _Luke’s in love with him_.

“Years?” Michael squeaks, and Luke nods, wide eyed. The snow is still falling gently, but it’s kind of beautiful now, rather than the panicked storm it was before.

“Yeah,” Luke mutters, looking down at the floor. “You were, are, just so, so _captivating_. And you had magic and I didn’t know anyone who could do magic and I was so intrigued. But then, then you exploded my homework and yelled at me and I was so convinced you hated me? And still, I just.” Luke huffs a soft laugh, still refusing to look at Michael. “They day we became friends, the day Calum basically dragged you over to me and forced us to make up, that’s one of the happiest moments of my life.”

Michael can’t help but smile softly, too. He shares the sentiment.

“But even when we were friends, for me, it was like, you were so far out of my league. You’re funny, and you act like you don’t care about anything but you _do_. And well, I mean, you’re not really particularly bad looking either, so that’s definitely a bonus.” Luke’s blushing now, and Michael has to stop himself from reaching out and pulling him in for a hug and never let him go. He can do that later. First, they need to talk.

“And now you’re _here_ , and you’re telling me you’re in love with me, while I was _convinced_ you were about to tell me we couldn’t be friends anymore.” Luke huffs out another laugh. “It’s all a bit much to take in.”

“I get what you mean,” Michael mutters, “I was so convinced you’d hate me, after, after what happened in the library. And now you’re here, and you’re just-” Michael cuts himself off, shaking his head, mostly to himself. He’s still not one hundred percent sure what is happening right now, but he’s definitely not against it.

“I could never hate you,” Luke says, aggressively shaking his head. “Never. And I mean, technically it wasn’t your fault. It was your weird voodoo love magic. Because you’re in love with me.” Luke is beaming at him, and Michael can’t help but beam back. He’s in love with Luke. Luke’s in love with him. _Somehow_ , he didn’t end up fucking it all up.

They just stand there, staring at each other, with bright grins on their faces. Luke has a soft blush dusting his cheek and Michael thinks he could just stand here looking at him forever.

Unfortunately, Calum’s nightstand has different plans, and full on rams into the back of Michael’s legs, knocking him forward.

Straight into Luke’s arms.

Suddenly their faces are incredibly close, and Luke wrapped his arms around Michael to steady him and his mouth is _right there_ looking very kissable. “Hi,” Luke whispers, soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” Michael whispers back. The nightstand slams against the back of his knees and he grunts. “Okay, Luke, I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but I think Calum’s nightstand wants us to… kiss.”

Luke, bless him, just laughs instead of finding it as bizarre as he maybe should. It’s great prove of how perfect they really are for each other, the fact that Michael’s weird magic things don’t scare him away.  He reaches up and places one of his hands on Michael’s face, wiping away a few snowflakes. “I mean, we are a guest in his bedroom right now, I think it would be impolite to deny the furniture’s wishes.”

Michael’s stomach flutters with butterflies (oh dear God please don’t let them be real) and he leans into Luke’s hand. “That would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

“Terribly rude,” Luke concludes, and then he’s kissing Michael.

And suddenly the still steadily falling snow explodes into tiny clouds of glitter, whirling around them and floating through the air. Luke huffs a surprised laugh against Michael’s mouth, but he doesn’t stop, and Michael’s really glad about that. No matter how pretty the glitter is, kissing Luke will always be so much better.

It doesn’t feel like coming home or fireworks exploding, kissing Luke. Although technically, they did have some sort of fireworks, in the form of the entire Michaels glitter department. But no, kissing Luke is clumsy and uncoordinated and gets constantly interrupted by one of them giggling. That doesn’t make it any less perfect though. If anything, it makes it better. It makes it _them_.

It’s kind of unreal, Michael thinks, that after all the weird things he went through, after everything that happened, he still ended up here, in Calum’s bedroom, kissing the most beautiful boy he’s ever laid his eyes on. He hates cliché fairytales, he really does, but right now he kind of feels like one. After all, he thinks, finally leaning away from Luke to wipe a bit of glitter off the boy’s cheek, if his life really is a cliché fairytale, then this is the best ‘Ever After’ he could ever hope for.

“You know,” Luke says, “Looking back on it, I’m really glad they didn’t lock us up in the kitchen. Can you imagine the fridge trying to get us to make out? It could’ve completely crushed us. Plus I don’t trust you near microwaves anymore. God knows what could happen.”

Michael laughs, and it truly feels like a weight lifted off his chest. “Don’t worry, my sweet poor damsel in distress. I would’ve totally saved you.”

Luke snorts. “Yeah, you and your army of evil tomatoes, right? If I were the fridge, I’d quiver in fear.”

“Hey,” Michael frowns, “Don’t insult my army of tomatoes, they led me to the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“And what might that be?” Luke asks, an amused smile on his face. Michael has to refrain himself from grabbing him and kissing that smile right of his face. The knowledge that he could now actually do that, and Luke would probably not punch him for it, makes him feel all warm and giddy inside.

Okay, so maybe he’s a little bit of a cliché. After all he _is_ a witch with magical love powers and an actual black cat. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little bit cliché, sometimes. And if someone asks him about it, he’ll just say it’s because Luke brings out the worst in him.

“ _You_.”

**Author's Note:**

> the working title of this fic was 'magic mikey' because obviously i am HILARIOUS
> 
> find me on tumblr [here](http://witchlukey.tumblr.com) :)))))


End file.
